


Sneak Away

by Glitter_Lisp



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lisp/pseuds/Glitter_Lisp
Summary: In the bad dreams, he loses his grip. In the worse ones, he lets go.
Relationships: Toph Beifong & Sokka
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	Sneak Away

He played it out in his head. If he had both hands free, he could have twisted off the platform, caught his fingers around the edge and swung towards the railing underneath. No guarantee he would have made it, not with a broken leg, no weapons, and a year’s worth of exhaustion, but it would have at least given him a chance. He could have crawled. In half a second, he had worked out the logistics. 

A half a second while Toph was still dangling by her fingertips, a half a second where he thought  _ if I weren't holding her– _

He wishes it were just a nightmare. He wishes that the selfish, ungrateful,  _ traitorous _ part of his mind was something that only cropped up in bad dreams. But the truth is that on the day of the comet, when he was the only thing keeping Toph in the air, he thought about letting go. 

He didn't, of course. He had dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, one scenario out of the dozen he was frantically running while he tried to keep them both alive, and it wasn't until days later that he even remembered it. Remembered holding onto one of his best friends by her  _ fingertips, _ and thinking that maybe he would survive if he let her fall. He could have given himself a fighting chance, if he gave up on her. If he dropped her, a member of his own family, into the boiling ocean where she would be blind and drowning, unable to see the twisted metal debris falling around her. 

He didn't do it. He can't stop thinking about it. 

They all have nightmares. Of course they do; they saw terrible things, and sometimes they did terrible things, too. People died because of them, sometimes indirectly and sometimes at the end of Sokka’s sword. The war was brutal and terrifying and he knows, deep in his bones, that he'll never fully recover from it. He thinks he'll forgive himself one day, because in the end they did a good thing. They didn't always do the best thing, even the right thing, but they did what was necessary. He can come to terms with that. 

But that ugly, selfish, cowardly part of himself–

He wakes up gasping and scrambling for a sword that's not there. When he dreams about that day, there's no sound. He thinks his brain couldn't handle it if he spoke to Toph before letting her die. Instead it's silent, no noise from the fire or the wind or the metal under Sokka’s fingers as he lets her go and crawls away. He made it, in this one. He got away and got control of the airship and saved the day, because he dropped her. 

It was just a  _ thought.  _ It wasn't one he even considered, it didn't get farther than  _ if I had both hands free I could– _ before he was dismissing it. Thoughts don't mean anything. Thoughts are just thoughts. What matters is that he tightened his grip and knew that they were going to die, but at least they were dying together. 

Aang wouldn't have thought about dropping her. Katara wouldn't. Even Zuko probably wouldn't have. None of them are so selfish, so disloyal, that they would betray someone they're supposed to love. It was just a thought, barely even that, and it slid through his mind soft and quick and left a trail of destruction in its wake. 

What's  _ wrong _ with him?

He gets out of bed, because even if he could fall asleep he doesn't want to know what dreams might be waiting for him. He limps his way out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen, ready to make tea or food or anything that will keep him awake for the day when the sun isn't even up yet. 

The light is already on. Toph is sitting at the table, one leg curled underneath her and the other foot planted firmly on the ground. She can see him, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just points at the teapot in the middle of the table. Sokka grabs a cup, fills it to the brim, and braces himself before he lifts it to his lips. Tea from Toph is always a bit of a toss up; she can't read the labels and she can't be bothered to remember Iroh’s organization system, so it pays to be wary. He doesn't smell anything too dangerous, so he takes a cautious sip. 

“Is this… just hot water?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Is it?” Toph asks distractedly. “I wasn't paying attention. I just wanted– but I couldn't remember where he puts, you know, everything. So I just made this.”

Sokka takes another sip. Plain hot water is really bad, but he's already sitting down, and he's too tired and sore to get back up. 

He wants to ask what she's doing up. He doesn't. 

“You too, huh?” Toph asks, and he sighs and leans back in his seat. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Was it about the airships?” He gapes at her, and he must be silent for too long, because she shrugs and says, “You called my name.”

“Oh,” he says hoarsely. “Did– did I wake you up?”

“I was already up.” She twists her teacup between her hands, one way and then the other. “I keep dreaming about it, too.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and she nods slowly.

“I dream that I fall.” He can't help his wince, and her lips twitch in something that looks like it would be a smile, if it weren't too worn out. “Yeah.”

“I have pretty much the same one,” he admits. “You slip, or the airship crashes, or the platform breaks and we both fall.”

“I always wake up before we hit the water,” Toph says. “Right before, I can feel the spray, and then I'm back in bed and we're all fine and I keep  _ dreaming _ about it.”

“Kinda messed up how we dream about what  _ didn't _ happen,” Sokka says, and he means to sound joking but his voice just comes out tired. “Like what actually happened wasn't bad enough.”

“It was definitely bad enough,” Toph says darkly, and finally takes a sip of her water, only to wrinkle her nose at it in disgust. “Yuck. Are you seriously drinking this?”

Sokka shrugs and takes another swallow. “It's warm.”

“I've had enough warmth for a lifetime, thanks.” Toph sets the cup down decisively, and Sokka doesn't point out that she's the one who tried to make tea in the first place. “Did…” She hesitates then, something she never does. “Did it  _ look _ scary?”

It occurs to him for the first time how it must have been for Toph, dangling in the dark, Sokka's hand and burning air the only thing she could feel. He swallows hard. 

“Yeah,” he says. “There were, uh, there were soldiers on the other two platforms, on either side, and the fire was…” He shivers. “What's it like for you, when you can't see?”

Toph mulls it over for a few moments. “Disorienting,” she finally says. “And scary. Like– well, like the ground’s been snatched out from under you, but worse because you're still standing at the same time.” She snorts. “Except for the times you're dangling off a Fire Nation airship, anyways.”

Sokka laughs despite himself, a soft little puff of air. “Yeah. Except for those times.”

Toph manages an actual smile this time, head tilted vaguely in his direction so he can see it. “Why do you ask?”

“If you look at something too bright for too long, it can make you go blind,” he says. “Your vision goes all white, like it just… burned part of it away.” He smiles weakly. “Fire’s pretty bright.”

Toph is silent for a few long seconds. “You couldn't see either, huh?”

“Not that well,” Sokka admits. “Silhouettes, pretty much. It wears off after a while, and it wasn't like I couldn't see at all, but it was… like you said. Disorienting.”

“So, scary,” Toph translates, and Sokka laughs again. It cracks in the middle. 

“Yeah. Pretty scary.”

“Thank the spirits for Suki, huh?” Toph says. Sokka's smile, this time, feels a little less forced. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “She's got good timing.”

Toph sighs and drains the last of her water, grimacing. “Ugh. Nope, not any better. Okay, I'm gonna go back to sleep. You probably should, too.”

Sokka stands and stretches. She's right. He's still exhausted, and the sight of her alive and well has done a lot to ease the knot of guilt and anxiety in his chest. 

Toph stands as well, cracking her knuckles as she turns toward the door. She pauses for a moment, hand lingering on the back of her chair, then looks up at him. Her eyes don't meet his, but she's got her face turned fully towards him for the first time since he's known her. 

“Thanks for saving me,” she says. “And for… being you, I guess.”

Sokka frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I was sure we were gonna die then,” Toph says quietly. “And I was scared. I was  _ really _ scared. But not as much as I could have been, because you were there with me. I knew you wouldn't drop me.”

Sokka's eyes burn, and his throat feels like it's closing up. “I wouldn't,” he says. “I'd never.”

Toph offers him a faint little smile before looking away. “I know.”

“We should get to bed,” Sokka says, and Toph sighs. 

“Time to dream about falling again, huh?”

“Nah.” He steps close enough to sling his arm around her shoulder and squeeze her to his side for just a second, the closest thing to a hug Toph will tolerate. “You're not gonna fall. I won't let you.”


End file.
